Black Balloon
by Little-Red-Monkey
Summary: Draco compares love to his Black Balloon after a break-up with Harry. Song Fic.


**Black Balloon**

_**Baby's Black Balloon makes him fly,**_

**_And I almost fell into that hole in your life,_**

**_And you're not thinking about tomorrow,_**

**_Coz you were the same as me,_**

**_But on your knees,_**

**__**

**_A thousand other boys could never reach you,_**

**_How could I have been the one?_**

**_I saw the world spin beneath you,_**

**_And scatter like ice from the spoon,_**

**_It was your doom,_**

**__**

**_Coming down the world turned over,_**

**_And Angels fall without you there,_**

**_And I go on as you grow colder,_**

**_Or are you someone's prayer?_**

**__**

**_You know the lies they always told you_**

**_And the love you never knew_**

**_What's the things they never showed you_**

**_That swallowed the light from the sun,_**

**_Inside your room._**

**__**

**_Coming down the world turned over,_**

**_And Angels fall without you there,_**

**_And I go on as you grow colder,_**

**_Or are you someone's prayer?_**

**__**

**_And there's no time left for losing_**

**_When you stand they fall_**

**__**

**_Coming down the world turned over,_**

**_And Angels fall without you there,_**

**_And I go on as you grow colder,_**

**_And I'll become_**

**_What you became to me_**

**__**

I never cared much for Balloons. Dreadfully Muggle like objects, full of happiness. They move too much, have too much energy and no matter what I did they always seemed to attach themselves to my hair and cause it to go completely static.

No, It would be an understatement to say I didn't like Balloons.

But I don't mind them so much anymore. Sometimes I buy a pack from a Muggle shop and turn them all black and blow them up, just to watch them float out my window and up into the sky.

I can pin point the exact moment my opinion of Balloons changed. It was a Saturday, Hogsmeade weekend. A bright sunny afternoon in Summer, just before the end of the 7th and final year at Hogwarts.

I was wandering alone past the shops, not stopping to look at anything, not even caring at what they had on offer. I kept my head down, and concentrated on where my feet were taking me which wasn't anywhere particular.

Something made me stop though, a voice, not far away. I looked up to see Harry Potter standing outside the Weasley's joke shop holding not one but two of the blasted objects I hated so much. One white, one black. A stark contrast against each other but they went so well together; perfect.

He was laughing about something with the Mudblood and the younger Weasel. I tried not to notice and to continue walking but it was something about the situation that made me stop and stare.

Harry let the Balloons slip from his grasp and they floated upwards until their strings pulled them back, which were attached to a bar beneath them. They bounced and swayed in the breeze, sometimes knocking together and they appeared to be grey for a moment before they blew apart again. Their strings began to twine and knot together, they became attached and only when Harry untied the strings did they flutter apart and float upwards into the bright blue, cloudless sky.

One of the black ones had less air, and instead of floating upwards it floated with the breeze, in my direction. Harry followed it and met my gaze as it past me slowly, brushing my sleeve gently.

We stared at each other for a moment, one black, one white, a perfect contrast. And then he walked away, leaving the Balloons to float into space while I watched and mourned the loss of something so perfect.

Balloons remind me of him. What we once had.

And, for some reason, Balloons remind me of love. The love we shared.

Balloons are blown up, enjoyed for while, and left to deflate slowly by themselves. That's what love is like usually, if it isn't meant to last.

Sometimes the Balloon doesn't deflate and it lasts forever, never ending. Love can be like that sometimes too. I thought that's what our love was like.

We were brought together slowly, blown up to its biggest degree gradually, like someone filling a balloon with their own air steadily watching it grow, change shape and become something beautiful with time.

When the balloon can get no bigger you tie it up and admire its beauty. When you can love someone no more than you already do, you admire what you have together and hope it lasts forever, even though sometimes you know that it wont.

I used to think me and Harry could love each other no more, and that if we loved each other too much it would burst and turn to dust.

We were perfect in every way, entwined together like the string of the balloons I saw that day and I believed we would never flutter apart.

Harry always had loved Balloons, always insisted they were at his parties and things and I always complied, even though I hated them.

We never expected what happened. It just did. We thought we were too different, too wrong. One black, one white. But just like the contrast of the balloons we were perfect, even if no one else could see it. Black may be completely different to white and be a totally separate colour, but when mixed they can make a whole new colour, unique in its own way. And that's exactly what we did. We were unique.

I had always noticed something different about Harry, and I thought it was hatred. I watched as he dodged death time and time again, seeming to fall but always getting back up to dodge it once more. I mocked his bad home life, the death of his parents, his friends and him all because I thought I hated him. But I came to realise it wasn't hatred, it was something else.

I was the only one who could get to him in a bad way, I knew that. But I found out that I was the only one who could get to him in anyway at all.

The famous Harry Potter was gay, everyone knew, but the mystery was why he never seemed to date. All guys were willing, all of them, but Harry never saw any of them.

None except me, and we never went on a date.

We were secret, kept from everyone around us.

We did everything together, but people assumed he liked to do things alone. We went for walks, talked together about nothing that mattered and I felt like I knew him inside and out. I knew every inch of him and I knew that he was slowly falling apart. Friends were deserting him, the final battle drew closer and the threats from the dark side came thicker and stronger than ever before.

But I was always there to comfort him, console him if he needed me. And through it all we stayed together.

He told me about his poor treatment at home, the lies he felt he had been fed his whole life and how he felt like nothing he did was the truth because there was always some other lie hiding behind it. And I understood like no one else did.

We were one and the same. I couldn't live without him, or him without me it seemed. We never spent more than a day apart, even when our relationship was secret. When it came out in the open we felt we were free, and spent more time together than ever.

But of course, when things are let free, like the Balloons, they are meant to drift apart not stick together. But somehow we did, for a while anyway.

But it didn't last.

Balloons can be blown up, slowly taking shape getting bigger and bigger and the bigger it is the higher it will float and the longer it will take for it to go down.

But Balloons don't last forever.

They can gradually lose the air in them, all the while losing their shape and size but its still there, bold as ever. Until all the air just dries up and the Balloon is left flat, wrinkled and forgotten. Useless.

They can be let down purposefully, you just untie the knot that's holding it all together and all the air comes rushing out at once, rudely and noisily. Its quick, and noisy and when its over the balloon is left flat yet again.

But Balloons can also pop, be forced to deflate with one prick of a pin or something sharp. Nothing more. Something so tiny can cause something so full of life to just shatter, burst, and nothing is left but tiny pieces. Its sudden, unexpected and painful.

Balloons are just like love.

Popping Balloons reminds me of how things ended with Harry, it wasn't slow or gradual. We didn't have time to adjust or accept the fact it was steadily dying. It just happened.

And now its gone, forgotten. Shattered into a million pieces and never to be remade.

And so, in Hogsmeade in the bright summer sun I looked up into the sky and watched as my black balloon and his white balloon parted ways in the sunshine, floating in different directions to find somewhere else to land. For someone else to find...

They drifted until they were only specks in the sky and as they disappeared I could see Harry floating away on his very own Black Balloon.

* * *

**That was random. shrugs Well I was listening to Black Balloon by Goo Goo Dolls on repeat for the last few hours coz its my all time favourite song ever, maybe that was what sparked it off...anywho... someone wanna tell me how crap it was? **

**Gah, just listen to the song WHILE you read, its better that way. If you read it without the music then I don't blame you for thinking its crap. Its crap anyway but I wrote it so I thought I mite as well post it since I'm bored and have nothing else to do. **

**Stopping babbling. **

**Oh, I'm also aware I changed a few words in the song. But he was singing about a girl, and we couldn't have that now could we?**

_Goo Goo Dolls- Dizzy Up The Girl...best album EVER!_


End file.
